Special occasion
by Elesianne
Summary: Curufinwë is not happy about having to share a celebration honouring him with Findaráto, but it ends differently than he thought it would.


_**Some keywords for this fic: **pre-slash if you like it to be, family, years of the trees  
_

_**Word count**__: ~1,300_

_**A/N: **This is pre-slash or just cousinly competitiveness depending on the lens you choose to view it through._

_Quenya names are used because this takes place during Curufin and Finrod's late 'teen years' in Valinor. Young Curufin is a spiky little bastard who thinks he is much tougher than he is._

* * *

**Special occasion**

Curufinwë loves and admires his paternal grandfather, but sometimes he thinks that Finwë has more good intentions than he has common sense. It makes little sense as he is a beloved and respected king – perhaps it is only in matters regarding his family that he has little common sense.

Take his decision to celebrate Curufinwë and Findaráto's completion of their first apprenticeships by hosting one large party for both of them. One shared party, attended by all members of all branches of the family, to celebrate two half-cousins who share no particularly affinity for one another.

That is an appropriate phrase, Curufinwë thinks. _Sharing no particular affinity_. He doesn't dislike Findaráto – that would require him to care more about his fairest half-cousin than he does. Unlike Carnistir, he only dislikes or hates with good reason.

Findaráto's inextinguishable good-naturedness and good-humouredness as well as the way he is always golden and glittering, somehow, even when he wears Falmarin sailor's rags, can be an annoyance but any of that is not of enough consequence to truly dislike him. In any case, Findaráto spends much of his time in Alqualondë with his mother's kin, and some on Taniquetil too, with his Vanyarin grandmother's family. He is not in Tirion enough to be as annoying a half-cousin as, say, Findekáno who seems to be visiting Maitimo whenever Maitimo isn't off somewhere with him.

Findaráto's frequent stays elsewhere are also the reason why he gained his first mastery a little late, at the same time with Curufinwë even though Findaráto is a year older than him. Curufinwë is annoyed at Findaráto's dilettantism – for what else can his long absences from his studies and practice be called – but he admires his talent which made his graduation less delayed than it could have been. They are both graduating young, Curufinwë especially.

That should be all the more reason for the two of them to have their own separate celebrations, Curufinwë thinks. All of his older brothers and cousins have had, though none of them have graduated the same year this far. Fëanáro doesn't like the shared honour, and somewhere beneath their serene surfaces, Arafinwë and Findaráto must resent it at least a little, too.

Curufinwë does, though he doesn't complain to his grandfather.

The only consolation Curufinwë – and his father, too – have is that Findaráto is Arafinwë's eldest son, and the first to accomplish a mastery, while Curufinwë is his father's fifth son. If the shared celebration is a slight, is it more of a slight on Arafinwë and Findaráto than Fëanáro and Curufinwë.

As Curufinwë stands before his very extended family and the royal court, beside Findaráto, listening to their grandfather's speech, he does his best to appear gracefully grateful for the king's praise, and he tries to not look at Findaráto too often.

Findaráto has chosen to dress in Vanyarin style, for some obscure reason. His long robes are a muted, pale blue of some wispy material, and his plentiful jewellery is silver. That should make him half-disappear in the white halls of the palace. Instead he stands out like he always does in any crowd.

Curufinwë's maroon surcoat's high collar is itchy, making it difficult to stay still as he listens to his grandfather talk about his and Findaráto's accomplishments in turn, describing their projects that qualified them for a mastery.

'I am proud of all my grandchildren, but on this day, I am particularly proud of Findaráto and young Curufinwë.' Finwë's eyes twinkle as bright as the crystal of his goblet as he raises it. 'They have certainly earned the fine feast that has been prepared for us today. Let us all share our pride in Findaráto and Curufinwë, and then share in the feast.'

Curufinwë settles a suitable expression on his face as he is congratulated, and then takes his place next to his grandfather in the long table. Findaráto, as the other person being celebrated, sits on the king's other side, and the queen opposite.

During the meal Curufinwë talks with his grandfather, and his father who sits beside him, and his mother who sits opposite him.

He notices that Findaráto talks with everyone he can, and it doesn't even look like it takes any effort.

* * *

The celebration goes well, all things considered. Fëanáro and Curufinwë make a point of not conversing much with guests that were invited for Findaráto. There are many interesting people invited anyway, craftsmen and -women, including many of Curufinwë's mother's relatives.

When the celebration is drawing to a close, the crowd growing smaller in size and the hour growing late, Curufinwë is surprised by Findaráto appearing at his elbow just as Curufinwë is fetching one last cup of wine before leaving.

'A grand celebration, wasn't it, cousin?' Findaráto's grin is as bright as his hair, and his eyes twinkle remarkably much like their grandfather's. 'An affair worthy of princes.'

'As it should have been.' Curufinwë straightens his sleeves and picks up his cup of wine. 'Were you looking for something, Findaráto? I was just about to leave.'

'Just you. Leaving, were you? Going straight home so you can start reading texts on metallurgy bright and early in the morning, or perhaps you shall write one?' Findaráto somehow manages to say it all without any of it being barbed or unkind. It is a feat Curufinwë knows himself to be incapable of.

But it makes it easy to answer not-sharply. 'For your information, I have – shall we say, celebrated enough today that I have already completed my plans for being under the weather tomorrow.' Curufinwë can't help grinning a little as he speaks. Almost too much of very good wine has that effect on him, and the shared celebration wasn't terrible in the end, either.

'Ah. That is too bad. I was going to ask you to a concert tomorrow morning. It is rather experimental: the musicians are all mathematicians, too, and –'

'I told you, I already have plans.' The rejection is automatic, and Curufinwë almost regrets it as soon as he has spoken the words. Experimental music by mathematicians sounds intriguing. But he is also truly going to feel unwell in the morning, he knows, and an early concert doesn't suit that 'plan', so the rejection is probably for the best.

Findaráto's smile dims. 'I see. Well. It might not be the best idea for me either to go anywhere early. But how about a ride?'

Curufinwë considers it. Findaráto has a rather fine plains-bred mare that Curufinwë wouldn't mind racing. 'In the afternoon?'

'Or in the evening, if you so wish', Findaráto offers, as if he wasn't getting what he wants anyway.

'Afternoon is better, so we shall have time to ride to the foothills of Taniquetil and back.'

'Afternoon suits me very well.' Findaráto touches his hair, even though every golden curl is as perfectly placed in artistic disarray as they were in the beginning of the celebrations. 'A long ride sounds refreshing.'

'Indeed.' Curufinwë takes a sip out of the cup he'd almost forgotten he has in his hand. 'That mare of yours. How fast can she run?'

Findaráto looks delighted. 'You wish to race us? With my horse it's not just about how fast but how fast and how _long_, and I will be happy to show you, cousin. She comes from very fine Vanyarin plainshorse stock.'

'And mine is bred from finest Noldorin hunting steeds.'

'We shall have a good race, then.'

Curufinwë finds himself smiling back at Findaráto. 'We shall. But', he feels necessary to tell Findaráto, 'do not take this to mean that we will necessarily make a habit out of this. This is a special occasion.'

Findaráto's answering smile is disconcertingly similar to one that Curufinwë has practiced in the mirror. 'Of course, cousin', Findaráto replies.

* * *

_**A/N:**This fic can be seen as an adolescent, much less poisoned-bitter companion piece to my First Age Curufin-Finrod fic _Crowns and sons, gold and blood_ which is the fifth chapter in my work Stories for Fëanorian Week 2017._


End file.
